These Little Moments
by Birdieq
Summary: A series of one-shots centered around the Sloan and Shepherd families in the Don't Want to Need You universe. Some serious, some silly, all sprinkled with liberal doses of Riley and Sloangomery girl cuteness.
1. Riley and the Hurricane

**A series of one-shots centered around the Sloan and Shepherd families in the** _ **Don't Want to Need You**_ **universe. Not in chronological order, and may take place at any time before, during, or after** _ **DWTNY**_ **and its sequel. You should probably read** _ **DWTNY**_ **for background information on the families. Feel free to leave suggestions or prompts for future updates!**

… **.**

 **How much trouble can one kid be? Meredith is about to find out when Annie comes over for a playdate with Riley. Pure fluff and innocent, toddler-fueled hilarity. Based on a prompt by winter machine - "** _ **A more lighthearted prompt: Meredith volunteers to watch Angelina to practice having two kids, and she and Riley together are insaaaaaaaane."**_

Addison lifts Angelina from her carseat and props her on one hip; with her free arm she grabs the diaper bag and slings it over her shoulder. "Be right back," she says to the three-year-old still buckled in and hurries towards the house.

She spots Riley's grinning face in the living room window and waves. It's the carefree, squinty-eyed smile she remembers from the first photo she saw of the girl - the pre-leukemia smile - and it's heartwarming to see after what the child has been through. "Look, Annie, there's Riley!" Addison chirps as she waits for Meredith to open the door. Annie squeals and waves.

It takes a few minutes, but eventually Meredith flings it open, Riley bouncing excitedly on her toes behind her. "Sorry, I was in the bathroom. _Again_ ," she grumbles as she reaches for the pint-sized redhead. "I swear, this kid is using my bladder for a trampoline."

"Yeah, that's par for the course at this stage. Now, you're _sure_ you want to do this?" Addison asks with a skeptical glance at Meredith's belly, quite substantial at thirty-seven weeks.

"Of course! Riley's been begging for someone to come play, and I know Emme's at day camp. And I can use the practice for when I have two."

"You do realize that you'll be giving birth to an actual _human_ baby, right, not a wolverine? It's like comparing apples and, well...wolverines. But best of luck to you."

"Oh come on! How bad can she be?"

Addison snickers. "You know that's the same as saying the OR board is quiet, right? You've cursed yourself. But anyways, I packed a lunch for her-"

"I'm pregnant, not an invalid! I can make lunch."

"I know, I just wanted to make this as easy as possible for you. She's a handful, I'm not kidding. Now, Cece and I have to go to ortho to pick up her new AFOs, then she has PT, and she has her pre-op work-up. And I need to get her some new pajamas and comfortable clothes for when she's in the hospital and rehab...probably should get groceries...by the time we're done it should be time to get Emme from camp, and we'll pick this one up on the way back. Probably four, four-thirty at the latest. But if she's too much for you just call, and I'll have the nanny pick her up."

"Addison! We'll be fine! Right, Annie?"

Annie blows slobbery raspberries and yanks on Addison's necklace when she leans in for a kiss. "Okay, you be good. And Meredith, just call if she's any trouble," Addison reiterates before dashing back to the car.

"I can't believe the way your parents talk about you," Meredith muses as she shuts the door and sets Annie free. Riley immediately grabs Annie's hand and drags her over to the play area in the corner.

It's a nice play area. The floor is covered in brightly-colored interlocking squares of foam with letters and numbers. Along one wall is a long, low bookcase filled with books and larger toys, and an overflowing toy box next to it; there is also a tiny table and chairs, perfect for tea parties or arts and crafts.

Riley tips over a bin of wooden blocks. "Let's make a castle," she suggests, and starts stacking. Annie piles blocks with no rhyme or reason, but Riley doesn't seem to care. She's just happy to have a playmate, and Meredith has to smile at the two little heads, one ginger, the other dark blonde, bent together as they play peacefully.

From a distance, it would be easy to assume the girls are close in age. Riley may have fourteen months on the redhead, but Annie clearly inherited her parents' height and is only a hair shorter. On closer inspection, though, Riley is well on her way to the lean, athletic physique of childhood, while Annie is still soft with baby chub, her movements not as graceful as her older playmate. Not infrequently her pudgy hands topple the wobbly structure they're building, but Riley takes it in stride and patiently rebuilds.

Meredith is still mesmerized by this sweet, budding friendship when Annie loses interest in building. With a laugh she scatters the blocks, then makes a beeline for a large plastic drum. She has the same one at home, inherited from Cecilia, and knows exactly what to do with it. She rips the top off, dumps out the contents - drumsticks, a tambourine, bells, shaker eggs, a rattle - and replaces the lid, which she bangs violently on with the sticks.

Riley eagerly abandons the blacks and joins in. "We're a band, mama!" she squeals as she picks up the tambourine, which she hands to Meredith, then takes the bells in one hand, the rattle in the other. "Play with us!"

Meredith joins their off-beat rhythm. Sure, they're loud, but so what? At least they're staying out of trouble so she forces a smile and plays along, interfering only when Annie loses interest in the drum and tries to swipe Riley's rattle. Luckily Riley is easily persuaded to take a shaker egg in its place.

Fifteen long minutes later Meredith thanks God for the toddler's blissfully short attention span. Sullivan starts barking outside, and Annie drops her instrument to run to the sliding door. "Goggie! Go out! Go out!" she chants as she slaps the glass with both hands; soon Riley is at her side, mimicking this unexpected little ringleader.

"Okay, we'll go outside." Meredith opens the door and the girls tumble out, heading straight for Sullivan. Riley grabs the orange ball and hurls it for the dog; Annie picks up a nylon bone and sticks it in her mouth. "Oh, no, honey, that's yucky. Don't put it in your mouth. Give it to me." Of course the baby pays her no mind so she forcefully removes it, resulting in an ear-piercing shriek and tears threatening to spill down rosy cheeks.

Meredith backs up to the deck railing and drops the bone. "It's all gone! See?" Annie looks perplexed when she holds up her empty hands, then screws her face up and prepares to scream again. "Hey! Annie, you want to paint? Riley, let's show Annie your paints!" Meredith suggests cheerfully, and Riley's enthusiastic _yes_ is enough to distract the toddler so she drags out the large double-sides easel that was a well-meaning but impractical birthday gift from Carolyn. It takes up far too much space indoors - and typically results in a mess - but it's a warm, sunny July morning; she figures she can let the girls paint outside, then hose them down or let them clean off in the kiddie pool.

She strips the girls down to their diapers and gets Annie set up with two pots of paint and a chunky paintbrush on one side, then does the same for Riley on the other side. When Riley's ready she peeks around the easel to find Annie with a slash of red across her lips. "No, no, no, don't eat the paint!" She's too late, though, because by the time the words are out Annie already has the paintbrush, now loaded up with a glob of green, in her mouth. "Not in your mouth! On the paper!" Surprisingly, Annie listens, and while she smears her brush across the page Meredith reads the label on one of the pots. _It's non-toxic, right? Carolyn wouldn't give Riley anything that isn't, would she?_ She sighs with relief when she finds confirmation, but keeps an eye on the troublemaker just in case.

"Mama, look what I did!" Riley demands a little while later, and Meredith rounds the easel, making sure to position herself where she can still see Annie while admiring her daughter's work of art.

"Oh, that's beautiful. Can you tell me about it?" Meredith asks as she studies the colorful blobs.

Riley points to a big, blue oval-ish sort of shape with four lines sticking out of it. "That's daddy," she announces, then points to a similar yellow figure, "an' you. An' I'm the little one! An' that's the sun, an' a cloud, an' Sully…"

While she rambles on about her masterpiece, Annie wanders over and rubs her hands on Meredith's jeans, leaving muddy red-green streaks down one leg. "On the paper, Annie! Paint goes on the paper!" she barks while silently reminding herself that at least the paint is washable.

Clearly Annie isn't interested in working on her painting anymore; instead, she dips her fingers in the blue paint, rubs her hands together, and leaves handprints on Riley's bare chest. In retaliation, Riley - clearly emboldened by her naughty little comrade - loads up her brush and paints Annie's nose yellow.

The girls are cackling with glee, so Meredith steps back and allows the body painting which amuses them for a whole twenty minutes before they come barreling towards her in all their nearly-naked, rainbow-streaked glory. "Oh, no. No! You stay right there, both of you. Let's go swimming!"

She drags out the kiddie pool and fills it with the hose; the water is cold, but the girls aren't fazed by it; they splash happily, the water turning murky as the paint washes off their bodies. They're content playing with some buckets and a watering can, so Meredith drags over a lounge chair and puts her feet up. She shuts her eyes tightly against the almost-noontime sun and listens to the girls; suddenly,they're too quiet, and she opens them just in time to watch Annie dump half a pail of water in her lap. Riley follows suit, and they both run away in opposite directions. "Get back here, you rascals!" She takes off after Annie and the little redhead is almost in her grasp when she hears Riley crying. Turning around, she sees her daughter on the ground, Sully's leash wrapped around one ankle as the dog runs around, excited by the commotion. She orders the dog to sit and rescues Riley, relieved to find just some minor rope burn. Crisis averted, she glances around for Annie who is nowhere in sight. "Oh, shit."

"Oh, shit!" Riley repeats, mimicking her mother's concerned expression. "Oh, shit!"

"Oh, no, honey! Don't say that! That's a naughty word. Let's play a game, okay? Can you help mommy find Annie?"

"Hide an' seek!"

"Yes, hide and seek. Do you see her?"

Riley scans the yard. "Nope! Annie, where are you?"

No response. "Come on, Annie! Time to go inside!" Meredith calls, but still, nothing.

Finally, Sully starts barking. Meredith runs over to the dog house and pushes him out of the way to peek inside to find Annie sitting bare naked - waterlogged diaper discarded God only knows where - with a fistful of dog kibble. "Don't your parents feed you?" she mutters with a shake of her head as she pulls Annie out.

Once the girls are in dry diapers and re-dressed, Meredith buckles Annie into the high chair and gets Riley in her booster seat - no way is she letting the dynamic duo out of her sight while she gets lunch ready. First she retrieves Annie's lunchbox from the diaper bag. Of course it's not a regular lunch box; it's one of those colorful plastic bento-style boxes divided into a half dozen compartments, each filled with something more nutritious than the next - little chunks of what appears to be roasted chicken with a tiny pot of barbecue sauce for dipping, sugar snap peas and cucumber slices, a boiled egg cut in half, some melon balls, a few slices of Colby-jack cheese, and crackers that appear to be whole-grain and probably cost a fair bit more than the box of Ritz Meredith has in the cupboard. _Seriously, Addison? Seriously? This is what toddlers are eating for lunch these days?_ She feels a twinge of guilt over the stack of Lunchables she'd let Riley talk her into buying at the grocery store the day before as Annie digs into her healthy lunch, and Riley squeals in delight over the little prepackaged circles of deli ham and processed cheese, then scrounges up an applesauce pouch so she can pretend it's a well-rounded meal and vows to try harder in the future. Not that Riley cares - she gobbles up the Lunchable, slurps down the applesauce, and washes it down with a sippy cup of milk; at least the lunches have that in common.

By the time lunch is over, Riley is yawning and Annie is already nodding off, her head bouncing as she fights a losing battle against sleep. Meredith washes Annie's face and hands and lays her in the pack 'n play in the living room, then brings Riley upstairs and tucks her in. After a quick peek at Annie, who apparently sleeps as hard as she plays, she heads to the kitchen to tidy up, straightens the play area mess from that morning, and then tackles a pile of laundry. Finally she flops down on the couch and puts her feet up, just in time for her phone to ring. _Addison._

"Hello?"

"Hey. Is she driving you up the wall yet?"

"No! She's an angel," Meredith lies a little too earnestly.

"I don't believe that for a second. Seriously, Do you want the nanny to pick her up?"

"No, no, she's fine. Really. She just had lunch and now she's taking a nap. We're good."

"Okay. But call me if you need me."

With Addison off the line Meredith leans back, closes her eyes, and nods off for a blissful hour-long nap that ends when she feels little fingers prying one eyelid open. She's greeted by a toothy little grin and twinkling blue eyes. "Well, hello there," she says, not surprised in the least that the toddler managed to escape from the playpen.

"Hi!" Annie pats Meredith's cheek before plopping down on her lap, her diaper squishing as a noxious smell hits Meredith's nostrils.

"Oh, we better get you cleaned up." Meredith grabs the diaper bag and gets to work; she's practically sweating by the time she's done with the diaper change that feels more like a wrestling match with an octopus. With the offending diaper disposed of she discovers what the toddler did while she was dozing - the bookshelf in the play area is empty, a stack of magazines from the coffee table shredded.

She's cleaning the mess when she hears Riley calling to her from the top of the stairs. "Okay, let's go get Riley," she says as she hoists the toddler to her hip, not daring to leave her unattended for even a minute. She climbs over the baby gate at the top of the stairs and sets Annie down. "Riley, you want to go potty?" she asks, even though the girl's diaper is already wet. She's all but given up on getting her toilet trained before the baby comes, but is still making a half-assed attempt at it.

Riley shakes her head. "No!"

"Yes. Come on. Show Annie what a big girl you are."

"No! I don't like it!" Riley whines.

"You can have M&Ms if you go potty," Meredith bribes, which convinces Riley to try.

Riley sits on the potty while Meredith gets settled cross-legged on the floor with Annie in her lap and a stack of special potty-only books next to her. They're halfway through book number four before Riley releases a trickle of urine, and by the end she manages a small bowel movement; it's not much, but they celebrate the success with a round of applause anyways. Then Meredith helps Riley wash her hands, while Annie swiftly and silently unrolls almost the entire roll of toilet paper before getting caught.

"Annie! No!" In the blink of an eye Annie escapes from the bathroom, and is attempting to scale the baby gate when Meredith catches up to her. "I think your mom was right about you," she grumbles as she lugs Annie downstairs where she discovers, much to her dismay, that it's barely two-thirty. _Two more hours. You can do this_ , she tries to convince herself.

She manages to keep the girls briefly distracted with an episode of Paw Patrol; then a tea party is fun for a whopping ten minutes before Annie swipes the tea set off the table. Snack time follows - it begins and ends with Annie squirting a whole pouch of yogurt across the kitchen. Of course Riley - sweet, well-behaved Riley - thinks this is hilarious and follows suit. After destroying the play area again, the girls eventually settle down with Riley's farm animal hand puppets, and are playing quietly when Addison arrives.

"So, how much trouble was Hurricane Annie, really?"

"No trouble at all," Meredith insists, even though Addison is raising an eyebrow at the mess in the corner.

"I'd offer to help pick that up, but the other two are waiting in the car. Emme's a little bummed that Annie got to come over without her, so maybe Riley can come over tomorrow?" Addison offers, guessing that Meredith could use a relaxing day to herself after dealing with the wake of destruction left by her unruly middle child.

"That would be great. I'm sure she'd love that," Meredith says as she walks mother and daughter to the door. Then she flops down on the couch with Riley on her lap. "I guess we better get that mess cleaned up before daddy gets home, huh," she says after a half-hour snuggle session. "What do you say?"

Riley looks at the mess with raised eyebrows and turns to Meredith "Oh, shit!"


	2. A Shepherd By Any Other Name

**A Shepherd By Any Other Name…**

 **This little scene was inspired by a prompt from winter machine...Addison deciding what Emme's last name should be. Send me prompts for anything that might not have been covered in Don't Want to Need You or the sequel, Life Ain't Always Beautiful.**

"You're _really_ giving her his last name?" Mark asks as he paces the floor, little Emmeline Beatrice...whatever swaddled in his arms.

Addison is being discharged today, but before she can leave Emmeline's birth certificate has to be filled out. It really shouldn't be a problem, but Mark won't stop harassing her about the baby's surname.

"Well, he _is_ her father. He might come back," Addison offers meekly from her hospital bed where she's dressed and ready to go.

"He's not coming back!" Mark spits a little louder than he intended, causing the baby to startle. "Shh shh shh, you're okay," he soothes, bouncing her a little; she lets out a few dissatisfied mews, the one arm she managed to free from her swaddle flailing spastically, before yawning and drifting back to sleep. "Are you really that stupid, Addison? How many times have you called or emailed him? He's had eight months to come back. He didn't, and he won't."

She flips him the bird. "But he might," she asserts a bit more firmly this time. "He's her father, and I'll have to tell her about him eventually, so why hide it?"

"He doesn't deserve to be her father," Mark hisses. "The divorce? I get that. Really, I do. But refusing to acknowledge your own child? That's low."

"Oh, and you cheating on me after I threw away my marriage for you? _That_ was low. I don't even know why you think you get a say in this."

He doesn't have a good comeback - or any comeback, really - for that, but he tries anyways. "And yet, here I am waiting to take you and _Derek's_ kid home, so I guess it wasn't _that_ low, was it?"

Oh, it was low - but so, apparently, are her standards. Her spirit. Her self-esteem. Mark may be a man-whore to the fullest extent possible, but he does tend to help with the self-esteem thing. And also the lonely thing, and the "how the hell am I going to raise a child by myself?" thing.

She just rolls her eyes and ignores the comment. "She's a Shepherd. End of discussion."

He leans against the wall and stares down at Emmeline. Her dark hair and round little face certainly do scream Shepherd, but the way she fits so perfectly along the length of his forearm, the warmth of her tiny, slumbering body against his chest, say something else. Not Sloan, because he hasn't earned that right, not yet anyways - he and Addison have only been together for a month following their falling out after she caught him with that nurse, after all - but Shepherd is all wrong. If she was a Shepherd, there would be a grandmother and four dark-haired aunts crowded into this hospital room fighting over who gets to hold Emmeline next. If she was a Shepherd they'd be leaving the hospital laden with balloons and flowers, pastel gift bags overflowing with tiny clothes and teddy bears.

But they're not. Oh, there are pink roses from Savvy and Weiss, along with the cutest little Burberry dress that Addison had squealed over and Savvy had said she'd bought the very day Addison announced she was having a girl. There's even a bouquet from Bizzy and the Captain - sent, no doubt, by Susan probably unbeknownst to Addison's parents - and a few things from co-workers, but it's not the same.

"She could be a Montgomery," Mark points out. "Nothing wrong with that."

" _Everything_ is wrong with that. After the way my parents reacted when I told them I was pregnant I am _not_ giving her their name. I don't want her to have anything to do with them!" she insists.

But the Shepherds? Oh, what she would give to have her daughter enveloped in the love that comes with all the chaos of that crazy family. A doting grandmother, aunts and uncles, over a dozen cousins - and the man she'd thought, once upon a time, would be the perfect father to their future children.

"You're hoping he comes back. You want him to come back," Mark says softly.

Her eyes are downcast, staring at the papers in her lap, but even from his position he knows they're glassy with unshed tears. "We were supposed to be a family. Two kids - one boy, one girl - a house with a picket fence and a dog in the yard. It's not easy to give that up after eleven years."

"Seems like it was pretty easy for him to give that up," he says before he can stop himself. He means it, but that doesn't mean he doesn't regret it. He does, because now the tears are falling, her hunched shoulders shaking with the sobs she tries to hold back. "Oh, come on, Red. Don't do that. I'm sorry." In three strides he's at her side and sits on the bed. "I didn't mean that. Shh," he croons into her neck as he wraps his free arm around her. "I'm sure he's miserable without you."

She sniffles and hiccups into his shoulder for a minute, then straightens up and takes her daughter from him. "He'll come back. Not for me," she says hastily because she's a lot of things, but she's no fool, "but for her. He'll want to be her father. How could he not?"

Mark knows the argument is over. Emmeline will be a Shepherd, and that's that. "He'd be an idiot not to."


	3. This Is Why We're Moving

"Mom, are you _sure_ I should go? What if you need help while daddy's away? Maybe I should stay."

Addison looks up from the baby boy nursing in her arms to see Emmeline hovering in the doorway of her bedroom; she looks impossibly young in the soft, early morning light with her tousled hair and sleep-flushed cheeks, and suddenly the thought of sending her over two thousand miles away for two whole weeks seems like an awful idea. Despite her second thoughts she smiles at her daughter and pats the bed next to her. "Sweetie, Lisa will be here to help me. You should go and have a good time."

Emme makes her way to the bed, pausing briefly by the bassinet by the window. She reaches in and strokes Georgia's wispy, strawberry blonde curls, then climbs up on the bed. "But what if they miss me? They might get sad," she points out as she melts into Addison's side and runs a finger across Everett's little bare toes.

"Of course they will miss you," Addison says as she hoists the baby up to her shoulder and pats his back. "But just think how happy they will be to see you when we get to Seattle."

"Hey, breakfast is almost ready," Mark says as he pops in the door.

Addison gets up and puts Everett in his bassinet. "We'll be down in a minute." Before returning to bed she grabs a hairbrush and elastic bands from her vanity, and soon has Emme's dark hair in two neat braids. "Okay, let's go eat."

Mark already has Cecilia in her booster seat. It's early, much earlier than she would normally be up, but he knows they will never hear the end of it if she doesn't get to say goodbye to her big sister. Emme slides into the chair next to her, and Mark serves up scrambled eggs and English muffins with jelly.

After breakfast Emme brushes her teeth and checks her carry-on bag at least three times to make sure her blanket and lamb are safe inside, along with a few books and some small toys. Satisfied that she has everything, she runs to Addison and hugs her tight. "Are you _sure_ you don't need me here?"

"I'm sure. I will miss you very much, but I'll be okay." Addison squeezes Emme and covers her face with kisses before releasing her.

"I don't want you to go," Cecilia announces in a shaky voice as she wraps her skinny little arms around Emme. "I wanna go with you."

Emme wipes a tear from Cecilia's cheek. "I know, but you gotta stay here and help mommy. You're gonna be the big sister for now, so you're _super_ important. Take good care of the twins, and make sure Annie stays out of trouble, okay?"

Cecilia sniffles and nods. "O...okay."

Mark squeezes Emme's shoulder. "Okay, kiddo, you ready? We don't want to be late." They won't be, though; he's used to these drawn-out goodbyes and has allowed plenty of time for it.

"Yeah, I guess so." Emme gets one last hug from Addison and they head out the door, but she stops a few feet down the sidewalk. Cecilia is in the window, palms pressed against the glass, sobbing forlornly. "Daddy, wait!" She drops her bag and dashes back inside. "Cece, it's okay. It's only two weeks. That's fourteen days. Remember we counted to fourteen? It's not that many. Then you'll be in Seattle and we'll be together, okay?" she soothes as she hugs her sister, though her voice trembles and it's unclear exactly who she's trying to convince.

"Okay, we really need to go," Mark insists gently as he separates the girls after a few minutes. "We'll call Emme every night before bed, okay Cee?" He shoots Addison an apologetic smile and steers Emme out the door while Cecilia continues to cry.

Outside, Mark hails a cab and tries to ignore the ache in his chest as Emme looks back and waves until the brownstone is out of view. _This is why we're moving,_ he tells himself. He's been out to Seattle many times over the last six months to check on the progress of their new home. Emme has accompanied him a half dozen times and splitting up the sisters never gets any easier; he can't imagine going through this for the next twelve years.

For all her trips to Seattle, this will be a new experience for Emme. The other trips have been quick weekend visits; she's spent a few hours with Derek and his family while Mark met with contractors and whatnot, but spending the night - fourteen of them, actually - is a whole other ballgame and he's not quite sure how she'll handle it.

Finally Emme turns and settles into the seat, her small hand finding Mark's. "I'm not gonna see my house any more," she announces sadly.

"No, you won't. But you'll have a bigger house in Seattle, with your own room, and a yard to play in. And Derek is right down the road. You'll have _two_ houses. That's way better."

"But Aunt Savvy and Uncle Weiss won't be there."

"I know, but you can FaceTime with them whenever you want. And remember last night mommy promised Aunt Savvy we'd come visit for Thanksgiving? And then they'll come visit us in the spring."

"But I won't know anyone in Seattle!"

"You know Derek, and Meredith, and Riley. And you'll make tons of new friends when you start school and dance class in the fall." He kisses the top of her head and rubs her back. "It's gonna be okay, Em. Everything is going to be just fine. You'll love it out there, I promise. You trust me?"

Her voice is small and unsure, but she nods. "Yeah. I trust you."

…..

They make it to the airport with plenty of time to spare. He buys her a blueberry muffin and a green juice to wash down her Dramamine once they go through security, and they kill time perusing the newsstands and gift shops. Finally it's time to board.

She still hates flying and squeezes his hand tightly when they take off. Minutes later, despite the Dramamine, he's holding a bag while she vomits. _This is why we're moving,_ he thinks. He can't imagine this piece of his heart alone on a plane for six hours, with only a flight attendant to comfort her when she gets airsick, every time she goes to visit Derek. Nor can he bear to think of her waking in the middle of the night with an earache or a sore throat and crying for a mother who's on the other coast.

Emme's a mess by the time they land. He texts Derek to tell him they'll be later than expected and drives to the new house instead. An hour later Emme's bathed and in clean clothes, and he brings her to the brand new California king bed in the master suite - they never could have fit one in the brownstone, and it will be perfect for Sunday morning family snuggles, he thinks.

"Daddy, you're gonna be here, right? When I'm at my dad's house?" she asks as she scoots closer to him, working her way under his arm and resting her head on his chest.

"Emme, we went over this. I'm going back to New York." This isn't entirely true. He'll be staying in Seattle for the weekend, just in case, but he knows that if Emme is aware of that, he'll be picking her up in the middle of the night.

"But I don't want you to! What if I don't want to stay with my dad?"

"Em, I have to help mommy finish packing. But you're gonna have so much fun here, you won't even miss me."

"How do you know?"

"Because, when I was your age, Derek was my best friend. We played together almost every day. He knows tons of fun games, and I bet he'll take you all kinds of cool places. Remember how much you liked the aquarium?"

"Yeah."

"Maybe he'll take you back there. Or to those museums we read about in the travel guide. There's so much to do here, you won't even have time to think about us."

He rubs her back until she falls asleep. They nap until early afternoon, then head over to Derek's house.

"I'm gonna ring the bell," she announces bravely as they walk hand-in-hand up the stairs. However, the door is flung open before she reaches the top step, and in the blink of an eye Derek has her in a bear hug.

 _This is why we're moving,_ Mark thinks as Derek swings Emme around, while Meredith and Riley wait nearby for hugs and kisses. Mark hasn't exactly forgiven Derek for abandoning Emme, but he can acknowledge that the other man is trying to make up for the past and is sorry for what he's done. Meredith is grateful to Emme for saving Riley's life, and Riley, though unsure about sharing her father's attention, clearly adores and looks up to her big sister. Emme deserves to be surrounded by both of the families that love her, and starting over in a new city will be worth it if it helps her heal after a difficult year.

Meredith invites Mark in for lunch. Afterwards, the adults catch up while the girls play. Finally Mark stands up. "Okay, love bug, I better get going."

She runs to him and wraps her lanky arms around his waist. "No, don't go!"

He kneels down and pulls her into a hug. "Emme, I have to. But remember what we talked about. You're going to have so much fun here, and in two weeks we'll all be here together. Can you be a brave girl for me now?"

She sniffles and wipes her nose on her sleeve. "Yeah."

"Good girl." He hugs her again and kisses her forehead. "I love you."

"I love you, daddy."

It nearly breaks his heart to watch her stand on the porch crying as he backs out of the driveway, but an hour later Derek texts him to say she's doing just fine. He calls at bedtime, just like he promised, and is relieved that she sounds happy. There will be some rough times, he's sure, but he knows she's going to be okay.


	4. The Four Ps

_If you read my rambling reviews, it's no secret I'm obsessed with the world Birdieq has created here, with all its angsty (and non-angsty!) dynamics and backstory potential. Lucky for me, Birdie is not just an awesome storyteller, but is also super generous. I was dying to explore the backstory of their custody agreement – which seemed ripe for drama – and she was nice enough to let me. Thank you so, so much for letting me play in your sandbox, Birdie!_

The Four Ps

"Now, if you take a look at the second document in your binders, you'll see what we generally recommend as the standard visitation schedule for a child Emmeline's age."

Addison flips to the tab the mediator references. Mark's tense forearm rests on the shiny wood surface next to hers; across the table, Derek's dark head is bent over his own binder.

"Every other weekend," the mediator continues from the head of the table, "and one weeknight per week – without overnight – is pretty standard at this age."

"There's nothing standard about this situation," Mark snaps.

"Mark," Addison sighs. "We all agreed to try mediation. Can you just listen to what she has to say?"

"Apparently he can't," Derek observes from across the table, and Mark glares at him.

The mediator smiles patiently. "Let's all try to stay focused on why we're here. For Emmeline, isn't that right?"

All three nod.

"All right. Let's move forward."

"It's too much," Mark blurts.

"Excuse me?" Derek frowns.

"Every other weekend and a weeknight during the week, in the middle of – everything – it's too much time."

Derek exhales with clear frustration. "Addison …"

She shakes her head, refusing to get in the middle.

"Mark," the mediator says calmly, "remember we looked at the numbers, and this is the typical schedule for children who – "

"But that's in cases of divorce," Mark interrupts, "where the kid actually knows the other parent. Not cases of … being a deadbeat."

"Mark," Addison hisses.

"What? It's not like he can deny it."

Derek is glowering across the table, Addison studiously refusing to meet his eyes.

"Remember, the three of you agreed on mediation," the mediator says gently, "because you wanted to work together to come up with an agreed schedule. Right?"

She turns to Mark. "And remember, we all agreed at the beginning of the session that we would try to avoid using charged language during our time together. Do you remember that?"

"Yes," he says sullenly.

He doesn't apologize for calling Derek a deadbeat, but he doesn't repeat it either.

Addison is just about to exhale with relief that they can move on when Derek pipes up.

"He doesn't need to be here." Derek says to no one in particular, pointing with his pen toward Mark. "He has zero legal rights to Emme."

"Derek," the mediator says evenly. "That's another example of charged language, isn't it?"

"But it's true."

"And you being a deadbeat isn't?" Mark snaps.

"Oh, let's not even –"

"That's enough," the mediator says firmly. "I can tell a break is in order, and then we'll come back together. Five minutes. Get some water, get some air, and come back ready to be the four Ps … right?"

Addison nudges Mark.

The four Ps. The mediator loves the four Ps. Patient, productive, present parents.

Mismatched adjectives. Mark objects on

But at least it suggests the mediator sees him as a parent.

…

"Okay. Everyone got some air, some water?" The mediator glances from one parent to the other. "Let's table physical custody and visitation for a moment and square away legal custody." She pauses. "Now, a typical shared parenting plan in cases of divorce where the parents are amicable would be joint legal custody with shared decisionmaking."

It's so quiet that Addison can hear Mak breathing next to her and Derek's pen tapping the table.

"But even though you have been … amicable in many ways throughout this process, we very rarely recommend shared decisionmaking in cases of delayed parenting."

Mark, with supreme effort, doesn't scoff at the euphemism delayed parenting.

But Derek doesn't seem to miss his reaction.

"Let's take a step back," the mediator says calmly. "When we first started and we exchanged goals and projections, Mark, you said that you encouraged the move to Seattle so that Emme could build a relationship with Derek."

He nods sullenly.

"And that you were hopeful she could build positive relationships with Derek and his wife and child."

Mark nods again.

"And Derek…" She turns to the other man. "You expressed gratitude to Mark for parenting Emme in your absence."

Derek glances quickly at Mark, then away, and then nods.

"And you also expressed your desire for Mark to continue playing an important role in Emme's life."

Derek nods again.

"Addison." The mediator smiles at her. "You said that you thought the more people in Emme's life who love her, the better it will be for her."

She looks from Mark to Derek, and then nods.

"All right. With that in mind, under circumstances such as these, we would normally suggest that decisionmaking remain solely with the biological mother. That means sole legal custody to Addison."

Mark tries not to look smug.

"There may be areas where Addison, you might want to discuss Emme's development with Derek, such as educational, or medical –"

Mark coughs.

Derek glares at the table.

Addison checks her watch.

" – but all zones of decisionmaking will reside with the biological mother."

"With the mother," Derek points out, seemingly unable to help himself. "That means just Addison, right? Not …"

"Derek." The mediator leans back in her chair. "Remember the four Ps. Is that productive?"

"No," he admits, "but I want something in the agreement that he has to – that he has to – "

"What, whip it out and say you're bigger?" Mark rolls his eyes.

"Mark," Addison elbows him. Hard. "Cut it out. You're both acting like idiots."

"With all due respect … you should listen to her," the mediator says mildly. "Moving on. You've already mediated and filed the financial agreement. So physical custody is all that needs to be sorted out."

All. Addison forces herself to take a deep breath as the mediator walks them through the proposed visitation plan.

"Every other weekend and every Wednesday?" Mark looks from Addison to the mediator. "That seems like a lot."

"Under this agreement, Emme would reside primarily with the custodial parent. The non-custodial parent gets visitation."

"I get it," Mark says shortly. "But Wednesday dinner is too much. It interrupts the whole week."

"Then I should get three weekends a month," Derek cuts in.

"Forget it."

"It's not up to you."

"Excuse me?" Mark's tone is unmistakably menacing.

"You're not part of the agreement," Derek says. "I agreed to let you come here because – "

"Derek, stop," Addison interjects. "Please."

"You let me come here?" Mark raises his eyebrows. "Like you let me raise the kid you abandoned?"

"Mark," Addison rests a hand on his arm. "Can't we just – "

"No, apparently we can't. I don't want to sit here and calculate who gets Emme for Arbor Day in 2019 when the bigger issue is that Derek never wanted her in the first place!"

Addison drops her head into her hands.

"Let's all take a minute to regroup," the mediator says calmly. "Keeping in mind that everyone in the room wants what's best for Emme."

"Every Wednesday is too much," Mark repeats stubbornly.

"No, it's not," Derek retorts.

"Okay, sole decisionmaker." Mark wheels his chair around to face Addison. "What do you decide?"

"I think," she says carefully, looking from Derek to Mark and hating the feeling of choosing between them, "that if we only do every other weekend then Emme's going two solid weeks without seeing Derek and his family, and that's going to get in the way of her learning to –"

"Fine," Mark says shortly, cutting her off. "Dinner every Wednesday. I hope nothing important happens on a Wednesday any time in the next twelve years."

"Nothing important ever happens on Wednesdays. That's why they use it as extra visitation for the deadbeats," Derek says icily.

"So we agree on the visitation schedule." The mediator smiles, and marks something on her pad. "Now let's talk about holidays. Have you given holiday scheduling any thought?"

"I have. I was thinking maybe we could spend them … together …" Addison glances nervously between Mark and Derek.

"Forget it," both men say at the same time.

"Mark." She turns to him pleadingly.

"Are you kidding me? He never so much as sent a Christmas card, a birthday card, a fucking email acknowledging her existence, never gave a shit about her until she was useful to him – "

"Mark, stop." Addison grabs his arm. "Please."

"No, let him go on, Addie," Derek raises his eyebrows. "He's obviously enjoying acting like I'm the bad guy."

Mark stretches a crick in his neck. "It doesn't require much acting."

"Mark – it's great that you're such a devoted stepfather," Derek says icily. "But –"

"I'm not a stepfather," Mark interrupts.

"Then what are you?"

For a moment there's silence in the air.

"I'm the one she calls Daddy."

"Because you screwed my wife and drove me out of Manhattan before I had any idea she was pregnant!"

There's another silence – itself pregnant, and ominous.

Mark and Derek glare at each other across the table.

"Mark." Addison says. She turns her head. "Derek…"

They both ignore her.

"Derek," Mark says suddenly, "quick question. How does your wife – your current wife, I mean, not the one you left seven years ago – feel about the fact that you're still bitter that you ended up with her?"

Derek pushes his chair back. "I'm not going to stand for this."

"Then walk away," Mark scoffs. "It's what you do best."

"Mark." Addison grabs his arm again and he brushes her off. "Mark, please –"

"Would you just shut up," he mutters.

"Don't tell her to shut up!" Derek orders loudly.

"Don't tell me how to talk to my wife," Mark snaps.

"She was my wife first," Derek says in a dangerous tone. "And Emme is my child. I know that you don't want to hear it, but –"

"I'm leaving." Mark picks up his things and turns to Addison. "You want to stay with him? Fine."

"Mark!"

Addison grabs her files and her handbag and shoots Derek a deathly glare. "You'd better be ready to apologize if I can get him back in here."

"Me? What about-"

"Emme loves him, Derek. Emme loves him, and pissing him off isn't going to accomplish anything."

"But he started it – "

"Shut up," she says tiredly. "Just shut up." She turns to the mediator. "Can you just give me like – twenty minutes? And also let me know if you know anywhere good to hide a body?"

"Not anywhere good," the mediator says, "but we'll be here waiting."

…

She finds Mark sitting outside on one of the benches on the esplanade outside the building, staring straight ahead.

"I'm sorry."

He doesn't look up.

"It's my fault," she says. "At the heart of it, back to the beginning, it's my fault."

"Did you come out here to martyr yourself, Addison?"

"No," she says. "Well … maybe." She sits down next to him. "Because it is my fault. Where we are …you and Derek at each other's throats … it's my fault."

Mark shakes his head. "I hate the way you let him treat you."

"I don't let him do anything. He's a separate person. Mark," she says softly, "I never knew if he would come back into Emme's life and I certainly never imagined it would happen like this … but he is … technically … her father. And she has a right to know him."

"Yeah, when it's convenient for him."

"I think he's trying – "

"If you came out here to defend him, go back inside," Mark says shortly.

Addison is silent for a moment. "Maybe if I had done more when she was born … we could have avoided this much pain now."

"What could you have done?"

"I could have pushed harder. Gotten his mother involved … I don't know."

"He shouldn't need his mommy to tell him to acknowledge his own kid."

Addison studies her hands. "I know."

"Look, Addie, I know we screwed up, but it was seven years ago. I'm done feeling guilty. And Derek made plenty of mistakes too. We all screwed up. Everyone in this mess screwed up."

"Not all of us."

Mark glances up. "What do you mean?"

"Emme didn't screw up."

"Of course she didn't, Addie, do you actually think –"

"No, of course I don't. But she's in this mess. She's in the center of this mess and it's not fair, she's six years old, and she should be worried about choosing a bedtime story or which princess has the best hair, not getting fought over in court like some … like some …"

"Okay. It's okay." He wraps an arm around her as she starts to cry and pulls her into his chest. "I'm sorry."

"You've been with us from the beginning," she whispers. "There is no better daddy I could have chosen for Emme, and you will always be her daddy. But we moved here so she could develop a relationship with Derek too. You supported that move, and I am so grateful that you did because if we don't do it now – if we don't let her know Derek now – she'll resent us later, when she's older and there's a whole side of her family who are strangers to her."

"I do know that." He's silent for a moment, and she feels his heart beat under her cheek.

"But you still don't really want him involved," she suggests gently.

He shrugs.

"Derek could never replace you. You know that, right? You were there the moment she was born You heldher right after I did. You changed her first diaper," she reminds Mark. "She took her first steps to you. Her first word was dada … and she didn't mean Derek."

He rubs her arm, sighing against the top of her head. "I know."

"I know it's hard, that you … maybe you hate him."

"I don't hate him. He's part of Emme. And he's – "

"And he's your friend," she says gently, "and I do think that the best thing that could come out it, Mark, in the long run, is for all of us to –"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves."

"Okay." She sighs. "We are still a family. You, me, Emme, the little girls, the twins – all of us. And Derek, he and Meredith and Riley and the new baby, they're a family except … Emme is part of that one too. I don't want to split her up over every holiday forever either, every celebration, and maybe one day if we can just … be able to spend time together, all of us."

He doesn't answer.

"Remember the cookout? Everyone got along then."

"The cookout wasn't in court."

"This isn't court either. It's mediation."

"But you're planning to file the agreement in court. Aren't you?"

She nods.

"Which means if it's a Wednesday night and Emme is sick or upset or scared or – just plain doesn't want to leave, it means we don't get a choice. Right, Addie? She has to go with Derek or he can call the police and have her dragged out of there. Is that what you want?"

"Of course it's not what I want," she says quietly. "And I wouldn't let it happen."

"I've looked into this. If you file the agreement in court – "

"Mark, I could file the agreement directly with President Obama and I still wouldn't let it happen. You know me. Do you really doubt that?"

He smiles a little bit. Addison is nothing if not a protective mama bear. "No, I guess not."

"Mark … the agreement isn't just for Derek. It protects us too. You talked to that family lawyer with me. It formalizes everything, legalizes it – yes, Derek is getting some rights to Emme but he's signing away a lot too – as he should," she adds quickly before Mark can interrupt. "It's on paper that I'm the sole decisionmaker. Me, not Derek."

"And not me."

"Not formally, no, but you and I are a team, just like we've always been, and we'll stay that way. Emme is … all of ours, and I really think this is the best way to make that formal. And so did the lawyer, and you liked her …"

"I know."

"I think it's worth sharing a few holidays to protect Emme," she says softly.

Mark is quiet for a while. "But every other Christmas … Addie, you know Em and I always bake the cookies for Santa together the night before. I promised her that once she could hold the knife without shaking it she could cut up the carrots for Santa, and she can do it, she showed me last week, but if she's not there on Christmas Eve –" His voice breaks a little.

"Oh, Mark." She rests her head against his shoulder, holding him fiercely around the waist. "Sharing her means we lose out on some of those things, yes. But we gain so much more."

"What exactly do we gain?" He mutters it into her hair.

"Emme will know that we did what we could to make sure she knew her entire family. That we opened doors for her instead of closing them."

Mark is silent for a moment.

"And it's a reason, maybe, to do holidays together sometime down the line – way down the line," she amends when she feels his muscles tense against her. "You know, build some new traditions …"

"Isn't new traditions an oxymoron?"

"No," she says, reaching up to stroke the back of his neck. "Everything is new at some point. Everything starts out strange, and then you … get used to it."

He considers this, then holds her a little tighter, and she does the same.

…

The mediator smiles warmly at them when they return.

Derek even manages to mutter sorry vaguely in Mark's direction – Addison mouths thank you in return – but the most surprising is Mark's yeah, me too.

The silence when they settle around the table again feels a little less weighty … but still pretty exhausted.

And they're still on holidays.

"One thing to consider is that many families divide Christmas, with one parent taking Christmas Eve in a particular year while the other parent has Christmas Day, and swapping the next year. That way, each parent sees the child on a part of the holiday."

"Fine," Mark says shortly. Addison covers his hand with hers.

Derek looks surprised that he's agreeing without argument.

The mediator looks – unruffled, like she always done, presumably a requirement of the job.

"Very productive," she says approvingly. "Perhaps we can agree to apply the every-other-year pattern to –"

"What about her birthday?" Mark's voice shakes when he interrupts the mediator; looking embarrassed, he shoves his chair back from the table and glares at the floor.

There's a long moment of silence.

"Generally, birthdays are viewed as a holiday to be shared on an every other – "

"It's all right, I don't need every other," Derek interrupts. "She can stay with Addison … with them … for her birthdays."

He's not looking at them.

Addison's eyes widen. "Really?" She looks at the mediator. "Is that … possible?"

"Anything's possible." The mediator glances at Derek. "Birthdays with her mother?"

Derek nods.

Mark's shoulders are still tense but he's the one to look surprised now.

"Remember," the mediator says, "the custody agreement is what you're agreeing to do, bottom line. It doesn't mean that as time passes and you become more accustomed to coparenting, and things change as the child gets older, that you might not want to make unofficial changes. For example, giving the mother physical custody on the child's birthday each year doesn't mean that, for example, you can't decide to permit the biological father to see her briefly, or to attend a party, or … any number of flexible options."

The three of them exchange glances.

"You've been flexible before," the mediator continues gently. "This situation has required enormous flexibility, and it will continue to benefit from it. You may need to call on the reserves that were helpful the last time. Now," she says briskly, "moving on to pick-ups and drop-offs…."

…

"I'll go get the car," Mark says abruptly once the papers are signed.

There's no reason why he needs to but Addison senses he needs air and a little space and nods encouragingly. He makes tracks outside and she ends up walking through the big double doors with Derek.

"That was … productive," he says.

"And patient, and present?" Addison smiles a little bit, but can't maintain it. "Derek, the two of you … you need to try to get along for Emme's sake."

"I do try," Derek insists.

"Try harder, then."

"What about him?"

"He's trying too, Derek," she reminds him patiently. "And so am I. And so is Emme. Everyone's trying."

"Yeah. You're right." He looks down at the ground. "Okay. I should get going, Meredith's dealing with Riley and she's been exhausted lately."

"That's normal at this stage."

They chat briefly about his wife's pregnancy, and then prepare to take their leave.

"Derek?" She calls after him when he's only a few steps away, and he turns back.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for the birthdays," she says quietly.

"Well … I missed her birth." He looks down at his hands. "I figured it was the least I could do."

"There will be other birthdays."

"I hope so."

…

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Addison's tone is optimistic as she buckles her seat belt.

"I don't know, define so bad."

"Very funny." She leans over to kiss him, then glances behind her at the two empty rows of seats. "It's so quiet in the car."

"Eerie, isn't it?" Mark can't seem to help smiling. "And so clean. How about we open a bag of goldfish and just smash them into the upholstery?"

"Perfect." Addison grins back. "And then I'll get in the backseat and kick the back of your seat."

Mark rolls his eyes. "Emme is getting way too tall."

"Maybe we need a bigger car."

"Probably easier to get than smaller kids," he jokes, then pauses. "Actually … I think we have everything we need."

…

"Well, I don't hear screaming," Addison says with tentative optimism as they climb the front steps of the house.

"No, just a dull roar." He smiles tiredly at her as he turns the key in the door.

It's almost … peaceful inside the house.

Emme has been reading to Cecilia on the rug in the family room while the nanny bottle feeds Georgia and Everett in turn and Annie rattles the bars of her playpen with impressive ferocity.

Their oldest jumps up and runs to her parents when she sees them.

"Were you good while we were gone?" Addison asks, stroking her dark hair.

"I was," Emme says, throwing a dark look in the nanny's direction.

Mark scoops her up for a hug. "We missed you."

"You did?"

"We sure did."

They release Annie from her imprisonment and bring her to the kitchen to start dinner; with the nanny feeding the twins and Cece making laborious but enthusiastically independent progress from the living room, it's just Emme and Annie.

And Emme does a decent job corralling her baby sister until she gets distracted folding napkins … and then glances back over.

"Mommy!"

Addison turns at the warning to see that Annie is hell bent on tipping over the kitchen table – she's tried before and it was amusing at first, until it started to look like she had enough leverage on her side to cause damage.

"No more vitamins for you," Addison scolds gently, kissing the top of her red head. "You're getting too strong. Good catch, Em, you're the champion big sister," she adds, and her oldest daughter beams.

Mark and Addison exchange a quick look. Now could be a good time to talk to Emme, with the nanny available to distract the others. Getting one-on-one time with their oldest can be challenging.

"Are we gonna eat now?" Emme casts a longing look toward the roast chicken Addison's been reheating. "Please? I'm starving."

… or not.

"Yeah, we're gonna eat now." Mark ruffles her hair. "Go tell Missy we can take over the twins, okay?"

…

Talking to Emme needs to wait until the twins are soothed to sleep – even if Everett's soothing never lasts more than an hour or two – and both Cece and Annie have been tucked into bed. Or, in Annie's case, tucked optimistically into the strongest crib they could find.

Emme is excited at first to sit on the couch between her parents, eager to soak up their joint attention, but then a shadow crosses her face.

"Am I in trouble?" Emme asks nervously, looking from one parent to the other.

"Not at all," Addison says, while Mark gives her a slightly suspicious look and adds, "unless there's something we don't know."

Emme chews her lower lip.

"Okay, we'll deal with that later," Addison says quickly. "Right now, we just want to talk to you."

"About what?"

"About … your dad," Addison says carefully, hoping Mark isn't cringing too visibly at the term.

"Oh." Emme looks up at her mother.

"We saw him today."

"You did?" She looks interested. "How come?"

"We were talking, all three of us. We wanted to figure out good times for you to visit with him, and with Riley. And Meredith," she adds.

Emme considers this. "Like go to his house?"

"Right. Em … do you like visiting him?"

"Yeah," she says slowly, glancing at Mark again.

"Hey." Mark lifts her onto his lap. "I like when you have a good time at Derek's."

"You do?"

"Yup."

"Oh." She relaxes against him.

"Em," Addison continues, "you know how some of your friends at your old school … Phillip, and Aditi, and some others … sometimes they would stay at their moms' apartments, and sometimes their dads'? And they always knew where they'd be going after school?"

She nods.

"Well, that's because they had a schedule. Like a calendar, so they knew when they would go. So it wasn't a surprise."

Emme catches on quickly. "I have a calendar too?"

"Right." Addison takes one of her small hands in her own. "And you've already been visiting your dad, which is much easier now that we live in Seattle, isn't it?"

Emme nods. "No airplanes."

"No airplanes. Exactly. So this … calendar just means instead of your dad calling and saying 'hey, can I see Emme this weekend?' we'll already know when you're going to see him."

"But what if he doesn't want to see me?"

Mark is holding Emme securely on his lap; over her head, his expression is dark, but only Addison can see it.

"He does want to see you, love bug, we all want to see you so much that we made a special calendar to decide who gets to see you when," Addison explains.

"Oh." Emme considers this. "What if he changes his mind?"

"Honey, he's not going to," Addison says softly.

"But what if he does?"

"He's not going to," Mark repeats. When Emme opens her mouth to reply, he taps her nose gently. "Is that another what if?"

She nods sheepishly.

"You can ask us anything you want," Mark assures her. "But asking what if about all kinds of things that aren't gonna happen … that's just gonna get you all wound up." He kisses the top of her head.

"I'm not all wound up," she says indignantly.

"I know, and we'd like to keep it that way." Mark smiles at her.

"Everybody agrees that this is a good plan," Addison says as confidently as she can. "Me, Daddy, and … your dad too."

Emme looks satisfied, then pauses.

"What is it, honey?"

"This is still my house … right?" She asks the question uncertainly, looking around the living room.

"This is still your house," Addison says firmly. "And you'll be here, in your house, with us most of the time. But every other weekend you'll see your dad. And … you'll have dinner with him once a week, too."

"Dinner by myself?" Her eyes widen.

"Well, dinner with your dad and Meredith and Riley and the new baby, when he gets here."

"An' then I come home."

"And then you come home."

Emme nods, then goes back to the calendar. "Every other weekend…" her voice trails off. "What's that mean again?"

"That means one weekend you'd be here with us, and the next weekend with your dad, and then back here with us."

"The whole weekend?"

Addison nods. "Remember you did that a few weeks ago, when you went on that hike to the falls? And you and Riley had a sleepover in her room?"

Emme smiles a little. "We weren't s'posed to," she says.

"Well, I think your dad was just surprised to find you in there." Addison strokes her hair. Actually, the phrase Derek used was cardiac arrest, but once he found Emme he did send them some cute pictures of both sisters curled up on the thick carpet sharing the younger girl's princess-printed comforter.

"But what if I miss you when I'm there?" Emme looks nervously at her mother.

"Then you can call us, or you can draw us a picture, just like now. It's not any different except it will be the same days every month."

"Just me? What about Cece and Annie?"

"Just you, love bug. Derek is your … dad," and Mark manages not to sound irritated when he says it; Addison is impressed, "so you're the only one who's going to go to his house."

"But you're my daddy," she reminds Mark.

"And don't you forget it." He holds her tightly for a moment, pressing his lips to the top of her head. She smells like the baby shampoo Addison buys and uses on all the little ones; there's something primal about all his children having the same scent.

"Em … do you have any questions, sweetheart?"

"No. Kind of." Emme looks up at her mother's question. "Mommy … are you mad at my dad?"

"No," Addison says, glancing at Mark. "Why do you ask that?"

She shrugs.

"Did you hear something?" Addison probes gently. If it's something she wasn't supposed to hear, she might not confess right away.

Emme doesn't answer.

"Well, we're not mad. Neither of us is mad …not me, and not Daddy. Right, Mark?"

He nods obediently.

"Change is hard, and scary, and sometimes it takes people a while to feel … comfortable, but no one's mad. Not at your dad and definitely not at you."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

…

The first Wednesday of the new schedule arrives too soon for Mark's liking. Addison is nervous too, in addition to dealing with – and trying to soothe – Mark's shortened temper, which seems to grow shorter each minute that ticks closer to Derek's arrival to pick up Emme.

Emme is somewhere between intrigued and anxious; she needs the plan repeated several times, and asks it over and over.

"Tonight I'm having dinner with my dad?"

"That's right, Em, and then you'll come back here and go to bed."

"Go right to bed?"

Addison laughs. "Let's not worry about that right now. We'll see how tired you are."

"I won't be tired," she assures her mother.

Derek rings the bell to let them know he's there, but then returns to his car in the driveway, waiting with a deference Addison appreciates.

Emme exchanges drawn-out kisses and hugs with her mother and each of her siblings and then lingers in the doorway with Mark. No sooner have they stepped onto the porch then she holds up her arms to be carried.

Mark hesitates only for a fraction of a second – she's gotten so tall, but she'll always be his little girl, his first baby, and he lifts her up to carry her out to the car. She holds onto his neck.

"Are you gonna miss me?"

"I always miss you, Em," he says. "But it makes me happy when you have fun and then you come back and tell me all about it."

"Like what I ate for dinner?"

"Yes, I definitely want you to tell me all about that."

"Hey," Derek says. He's leaning against the side of his car with his hands in his pockets. He smiles warmly at Emme.

"Hi," Mark responds. He nudges Emme gently; his daughter, suddenly shy, turns her face into his shoulder. Mark rubs her back.

Derek's taken her out plenty of times – she even spent two weeks at his place during the moving process – but maybe Emme is cognizant of something different in the air in their first formal custody switch.

Derek is patient – which Mark appreciates – not rushing her, carrying on a casual conversation with Mark about the weather and their plans for dinner.

"What do you think, Em, are you ready to get going?" Derek asks finally, his voice purposefully cheerful. "Riley's really excited to see you."

Emme looks at his car, then at Derek, then back to Mark. Mark smiles reassuringly.

"Okay," she says. "I'm ready."

After hugs and kisses she lets Mark set her on the ground and slips her little hand into Derek's.

Addison's waiting for him on the porch; he wraps an arm around her shoulder, she wraps hers around his waist, and they wave with their free hands until Derek's car is out of sight.

"First one down," she says.

"First one down," he repeats, trying not to feel bleak.

"Mark," Addison says gently. "She's coming back. She'll always come back."

"What if she doesn't? What if she decides she likes it better over there – maybe not now but in five years or six or –"

"She's not going to do that."

"But what if she – "

A thump sounds from inside the house, followed by a wail, and then the nanny's nervous voice.

"Like you told Emme, asking a bunch of what-ifs about things that aren't going to happen … that's just going to get you all wound up."

He tries to glare at her but can't keep up the façade when she stretches up to kiss him. The brief, hard hug that comes next helps too.

"Thanks," he says.

She grins and takes his arm. "Let's go see what Hurricane Annie's knocked over this time."

…

"An' then I had a fortune cookie." Emme pauses her story while Mark unwinds her other braid and starts to brush it. "Wait, Daddy, did I tell you that part already?"

"You did, but you can tell me again if you want to."

She needs no further encouragement. "I had a fortune cookie," she repeats. "An' it had a fortune in it. Did I tell you the fortune? I read it all by myself."

"Not yet." He passes her a pair of clean pajamas. "How about you get changed while you tell me?"

"Okay," she says, but takes a few quiet minutes to figure out which way to pull on her panda-printed pajamas. He watches her. It would be easy and a lot faster to get her dressed himself, but then he'd miss the grin on her face when she figures it out on her own.

Her dark, tousled head finally pops through the opening of her pajama top; she's a little breathless, but wastes no time getting back into the story.

"You wanna hear it, Daddy? You wanna hear my fortune?"

"I do." He glances around. "Did you bring it with you?"

"Yeah, but it's in my purse," she says. "But I memorized it!"

"You did?"

"Uh-huh." She draws a deep breath. "A stranger is a friend you have not spoken to yet," she recites, and then wrinkles her nose. "What does that mean?"

"I guess it means … that you should give everyone a chance," Mark says. "What do you think?"

Emme nods.

"But you're still not allowed to talk to strangers," he adds firmly.

"I know, silly." Emme pauses. "My dad said it means that it's good that we all live in Seattle now and we can all hang out and stuff."

Oh he did, did he?

To Emme he says, "Yeah, I can see it his way too."

She's still detailing her dinner for Mark as he leads her into the bathroom to brush her teeth. Finally, after several minutes of passionate discussion on ice cream flavors, she's tucked into bed.

"I had fun at dinner," Emme says thoughtfully as he pulls the comforter up around her, making sure she has all required cuddly toys close at hand, "but I was also happy to come back home."

"Yeah?" Mark smiles down at her.

"Yeah." She wriggles a little to get comfortable under the covers. "What do you think that means, Daddy?"

"Hmm," Mark says. "I think it means – that you're the best six-year-old around."

"I am?"

"You are."

He leans over and kisses her forehead. "Time to go to sleep."

"Wait, Daddy –"

He turns around halfway out of the bedroom.

"Do you even know any other six-year-olds?"

He grins at her. "Sweet dreams, Em," he says, and flicks off the light.

She's still giggling when he closes her door softly behind him.

 **Okay guys, I'd say that's a pretty awesome one-shot, wouldn't you? Make sure you show her some love! Thanks so much winter machine for tackling the legal stuff I shy away from!**


	5. Request

p id="docs-internal-guid-d37a5764-7fff-ac89-8fda-cdf2f61a1434" dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; background-color: transparent; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Hey guys. I'm really, /spanspan style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"really /spanspan style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; background-color: transparent; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"sorry I've neglected my stories for so long. I'm trying to get back into writing, but I'm just feeling so uninspired by...well, all my WIPs. I want to write something - anything - though, and maybe you can help. Hit me with your best prompts, challenges, suggestions, whatever for a one shot. Could be in the Don't Want To Need You universe, could be something totally unrelated. I'm hoping that just doing something will jumpstart my passion, so give me something to work with (NOT "update LAAB please," because I know at least one person will try that...) and I'll do my best to get something posted on my next day off./span/p 


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